


I Know

by kayura_sanada



Series: For Good [13]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: A Bitter Pill, Flirting, M/M, Mentions of Speak to Fenris (Act 2), Mentions of non-con, Past Abuse, Past Cruelty, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Torture, Spirit Healer Hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 10:22:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10717515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayura_sanada/pseuds/kayura_sanada
Summary: After killing Hadriana, Fenris goes to clear his head. Takes place just before Fenris arrives at Hawke's home after A Bitter Pill.





	I Know

The fury raged within him. And with it, compounded by it, the shame.

Hadriana. The very name brought to mind images of her standing over him, slapping him for trying to eat, pushing him beneath her staff and laughing at the meek _dog_ , obedient even without its leash. He remembered the hollow pit of hunger in his stomach as he went a fourth and fifth and sixth day without food. Remembered how she cackled when Danarius demanded kisses in front of her. Knew well the feel of her grip on his dreams.

He’d held her heart in his hand. It had beat like any other; from its touch alone, one would not know the filth it rolled within. The black viscosity of her soul. He had held it, had seen the look of fear, of horror, on her face. And he had crushed it in his hand.

For once, for that single instant, Hadriana had felt the same thing he and countless others had felt before her. And she’d seen what she had shown them all – contempt.

He could hardly savor the memory, tainted as it was with the information he’d received, before he remembered the look on Hawke’s face after it all.

The man hadn’t comprehended how Fenris had felt, what it had meant. He never could. And the thing was, he’d never tried. He’d only tried to be there for him. Just like then, helping him with Hadriana, leaving his Bone Pit and its helpless caravans in order to help him. Hawke’s concern… he couldn’t stand the idea of it, furious with Hadriana and Danarius and _himself,_ wanting what Hadriana and Danarius _knew_ he wanted, knew because they knew everything about him, every inch of him, inside and out. They had known, from the start, about his sister. While he’d longed for the idea of family, they had known. And, laughing, had kept it from him. And to dangle the knowledge in front of him now, after six years of running, of being free? After finally beginning to think that maybe, _just maybe_ , he’d been left to live in peace? No longer chased, allowed to try to create roots?

There was no chance Danarius wasn’t watching, waiting, for the moment he reached out for his long-lost family. And if he dared try, Danarius would have him in a second.

On the heels of realizing all of this, Hawke – Hawke.

“ _Maybe we should go.”_

“ _What does magic touch that it doesn’t spoil?”_

The trek down from the slaver dens washed across his senses in a haze. The browns of the cracked earth, the bright blue of the clear sky. Their tracks, as they’d made their way to the maze of caverns along the coast’s edge. The sound and smell of the sea, the crash of waves against the cliffside, the scent of salt on his tongue. His head thrummed with the beat of the tide.

When Hawke had finally made plain his feelings – feelings Fenris had guessed at ages ago, feelings he knew echoed within himself – he had responded before he’d even given it rational thought. The knowledge of Hawke being a mage, of him being dangerous and perhaps a little too familiar, didn’t even enter his mind. He had heard Hawke offer him a few more problems and had asked, “only a few?”

He’d seen Hawke blink. In surprise. It had made him doubt, for that split second before Hawke had leaned forward and grinned. _Grinned_ , as if handed something so unexpected he’d reverted to childlike wonder. “The good kind,” Hawke had promised. Fenris was positive there had been several layers of meaning in that simple statement.

Hawke was handsome. Kind. Generous. Free with his affections and his time. He had seen the man effortlessly charm anyone from nobles to templars to scared children. He’d managed to bring two diverse people like Fenris and Merrill together without either trying to rip out the other’s throat, no matter how much they might dislike one another. Someone like him would have countless suitors. But when he brought that up, Hawke brushed it aside like it meant nothing. Perhaps, to him, it was.

The thought had ricocheted inside his mind. He had seen Hawke speak closely with Isabela. He’d seen the man stand shoulder to shoulder with Anders. Did those mean nothing? Was Hawke truly amenable to something with _him_ , of all people? An elf? An escaped slave? A man living in a mansion he’d purloined from another? “Doesn’t that bother you?” he’d asked. And smiled.

It wouldn’t bother Hawke. He’d never seen a man care less about such things.

“And I’m an apostate refugee,” Hawke said. It startled Fenris silent. “Does that bother you?”

That ricocheting feeling finally lodged into place. He had no idea why it had taken him so long to understand. Fenris had been waiting for Hawke to take initiative, to choose whether this tension between them became anything – and Hawke had done the same. Had they both been dancing around each other for so long? Were they really so childish?

But as soon as he responded to the thought, saying a quick, “you have me there,” and flashing a grin, he saw something else in the human’s carefully controlled features. He was waiting. For Fenris to refuse? For him to turn away in disgust?

“ _I’m an apostate refugee.”_

 _An apostate_.

This was Hawke giving him control. Control over what happened between himself and another human mage. He had not been actively flirting with Fenris when he’d brought up the trouble he might bring. He hadn’t ever actively flirted with him, despite his unmistakable interest. He wouldn’t have. It had been Fenris’ choice to initiate something between them.

The power of it left him momentarily stunned. Winded, as if he’d been punched. No wonder Hawke had grinned when Fenris had responded the way he had – when he’d _flirted_ with the man. They may have danced around each other these past few years, but the one leading had been him all along. And Hawke was happy, perhaps even _relieved_ , to see Fenris accept him. Apostate and all.

“You raise an interesting point,” he said, letting Hawke know he understood. He stared at those bright blue eyes. His fingers had itched to take that stubbled jaw between his hands and kiss him, see how it felt. How he tasted. But it hadn’t been the time. “I’ll have to… consider it,” he had said.

Hawke had understood. There had never been a time when he hadn’t.

He remembered, too, as he aimlessly walked, Hadriana’s blood caking inside the crevices of his gauntlets, the expression on Hawke’s face after he’d killed Hadriana and turned his rage on him. He remembered the stalwart stance of the man before him, the empty, almost accepting look as Hawke allowed him to vent. To rail against the walls newly erected around him, aimless now that his target was dead. And then – and then.

“ _What does magic touch that it doesn’t spoil?”_

He clenched his eyes shut and stopped where he stood. The sea sounded closer now; he opened his eyes to see he’d struggled down an incline in the cliff face and now walked along the craggy rocks beside the water’s surface. The waves drifted through the water, breaking evenly, streams darting through the cracks and rocks. He watched them ebb and flow, saw a shell get battered along the stones.

He hadn’t meant it. He had, in that moment. He had with all his heart. _But he hadn’t meant it_.

Not like that. Not to that man.

Not to Hawke.

He had to go back. He had to apologize. Of all people, the last he should have spoken those words to was the man who had helped him without question, without demand. The man he’d begun to dance with, to court. The one who also just happened to be a mage.

He would set it right. Danarius and Hadriana would take no more from him. Not ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> Smut in the next chapter! :D


End file.
